Time is the lackey of eternity, and the chamberlain that
opens the gates of the Kingdom of God. All these various answers are at
bottom one. Life is ours mainly in order that, by faith in Jesus Christ,
we should struggle, and do, and by struggles, by sorrows, and by all
that befalls us, should grow liker Him, and so fitter for the calm joys
of that place where the throb of the pendulum has ceased, and the hours
are stable and eternal. We live here in order to get ready for living
yonder. And we get ready for living yonder, when here we understand that
every moment of life is granted us for the one purpose, which can be
pursued through all life--viz. the becoming liker our dear Lord, and the
drinking in to our own hearts more of His Spirit, and moulding our
characters more in conformity with His image. That is what my life and
yours are given us for. If we succeed in that, we succeed all round. If
we fail in that, whatever else we succeed in, we have failed altogether.

But then, remember, still further, the other aspect in which we can look
at this thought. That ultimate, all-embracing end is reached through a
multitude of nearer and intermediate ones. Whilst life, as a whole, is
the season for learning to know and for possessing God, life is broken
up into smaller portions and periods, each of which has some special
duty appropriate to it and a 'lesson for the day.'

Now many of us, who entirely agree, theoretically, in saying that all
life is granted for this highest purpose, go wrong here and fail to
discern the significance of single moments. To-day is always
commonplace; it is yesterday that is beautiful, and to-morrow that is
full of possibilities, to the vulgar mind. But to-day is common and low.
There are mountains ahead and mountains behind, purple with distance and
radiant with sunshine, and the sky bends over them and seems to touch
their crests. But here, on the spot where we stand, life seems flat and
mean, and far away from the heavens. We admit the meaning of life taken
altogether, but it is very hard to break up that recognition into
fragments, and to feel the worth of these fleeting moments which, just
because they are here, seem to be of small account. So we forget that
life is only the aggregate of small present instants, and that the hour
is sixty times sixty insignificant seconds, and the day twenty-four
brief hours, and the year 365 commonplace days, and the life threescore
years and ten. Brethren